No duty is more urgent than that of returning thanks.
quote by James Allen
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Urgent
Youre not shy, you get around
You wanna fly, dont want your feet on the ground
You stay up, you wont come down
You wanna live, you wanna move to the sound
Got fire in your veins
Burnin hot but you dont feel the pain
Your desire is insane
You cant stop until you do it again
But sometimes I wonder as I look in your eyes
Maybe youre thinking of some other guy
But I know, yes I know, how to treat you right
Thats why you call me in the middle of the night
You say its urgent
So urgent, so oh oh urgent
Just wait and see
How urgent my love can be
Its urgent
You play tricks on my mind
Youre everywhere but youre so hard to find
Youre not warm or sentimental
Youre so extreme, you can be so temperamental
But Im not looking for a love that will last
I know what I need and I need it fast
Yeah, theres one thing in common that we both share
Thats a need for for each other anytime, anywhere
It gets so urgent
So urgent
You know its urgent
I wanna tell you its the same for me
So oh oh urgent
Just you wait and see
How urgent our love can be
Its urgent
You say its urgent
Make it fast, make it urgent
Do it quick, do it urgent
Gotta rush, make it urgent
Want it quick
Urgent, urgent, emergency
Urgent, urgent, emergency
Urgent, urgent, emergency
Urgent, urgent, emergency
So urgent, emergency
Emer... emer... emer...
Its urgent
song performed by Foreigner
Added by Lucian Velea
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Urgent
Urgent...
To leave philosophies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
It's urgent...
That we all now see,
Dependency on others we must all heed.
Yes it's urgent...
That a greed and gluttony be released.
So urgent...
Is the writing on the wall,
No one must ignore at all!
It's urgent...
To leave philosophies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
It's urgent...
That we all now see,
Dependency on others we must all heed.
So urgent...
That a greed and gluttony be released,
The writing's on the wall for all to see!
The writing's on the wall for all to see!
It's urgent...
To leave philosophies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
It's urgent...
To leave philosophies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
So urgent...
To leave philosophies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
And we must leave philosphies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
While others are starving as we feed greed.
While others are starving as we feed greed.
Thinking of others is the urgency!
Urgent IS the emergency,
That we START to think of others...
And STOP our greed.
Urgent IS the emergency,
That we START to think of others...
And STOP our greed.
Urgent IS the emergency,
That we START to think of others...
And STOP our greed.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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They were only doing their duty (Two ballades with a prologue)
I. Prologue: Four days of terror
The arrest was just before five o’clock
on a Thursday afternoon,
with one white and one black constable
waiting at his work
and when he returned from business
cuffing him and searching his body
and taking him into custody.
The employer notified his relatives,
seeing the incident
as a blot on the company’s name
and then his job was hanging in balance
and the charges was
based on a false affidavit
made by stepson
on persuasion of the mother in law
and where his car had been stolen,
criminals had broken into his rented house
and robbed him of the TV, DVD-player,
hifi and everything valuable
no arrest was ever made
and the police was only doing their job
and will tell you
that another unit
is responsible for robberies
and hijackings
passing the buck endlessly.
Three days elapsed before a bail hearing
as the black state attorney
was that Friday busy
with another case
in another town
while he was innocently locked up.
It is no joke being innocent and locked up
in a police cell with eighteen other people
with one toilet,
in the middle of the room,
no shower,
no bathing facilities, dirt everywhere
and lice jumping into your hair,
not being able to close your eyes
and knowing if you will be safe
from a attack from any of them
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Do Your Duty
Be done with a hook up and go.
Do your duty to the booty,
And satisfy the mood.
Be done with a hook up and go.
And do your duty to the booty,
Don't present an attitude.
Or make excuses for what you choose.
Do your duty to the booty and go!
Whether clothed or nude.
Today folks care less who they screw.
Or spreading diseases and to who!
Be done with a hook up and go.
Do your duty to the booty,
And satisfy the mood.
Be done with a hook up and go.
And do your duty to the booty,
Don't present an attitude.
Or make excuses for what you choose.
Do your duty to the booty,
Whether clothed or nude.
Today folks care less who they screw.
Or spreading diseases and to who!
Do your duty to the booty and go!
And don't present an attitude.
Or make excuses for what you choose.
Today folks care less who they screw.
Or spreading diseases and to who!
Be done with a hook up and go.
Do your duty to the booty,
And satisfy the mood.
Care less about affects,
And what they do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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V. Count Guido Franceschini
Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Thespis: Act II
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
GODS
Jupiter, Aged Diety
Apollo, Aged Diety
Mars, Aged Diety
Diana, Aged Diety
Mercury
THESPIANS
Thespis
Sillimon
TimidonTipseion
Preposteros
Stupidas
Sparkeio n
Nicemis
Pretteia
Daphne
Cymon
ACT II - The same Scene, with the Ruins Restored
SCENE-the same scene as in Act I with the exception that in place
of the ruins that filled the foreground of the stage, the
interior of a magnificent temple is seen showing the background
of the scene of Act I, through the columns of the portico at the
back. High throne. L.U.E. Low seats below it. All the substitute
gods and goddesses [that is to say, Thespians] are discovered
grouped in picturesque attitudes about the stage, eating and
drinking, and smoking and singing the following verses.
CHO. Of all symposia
The best by half
Upon Olympus, here await us.
We eat ambrosia.
And nectar quaff,
It cheers but don't inebriate us.
We know the fallacies,
Of human food
So please to pass Olympian rosy,
We built up palaces,
Where ruins stood,
And find them much more snug and cosy.
SILL. To work and think, my dear,
Up here would be,
[...] Read more
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Duty And Work!
Sun rises and sets everyday;
Moon rises and sets everyday;
Plough man ploughs the field;
Poets love to compose poems!
Some love to do duty well;
But many do only for profit.
How duty has to be done?
What do duty, work mean?
Duty is done expecting none;
Work is done expecting some.
Duty and work all have to do;
But duty, works are different!
Duty is life work for everyone;
Work is done to live life here!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Kisses Of Fire
Lay your head on my chest so you hear every beat of my heart
Now theres nothing at all that can keep us apart
Touch my lips, close your eyes and see with your fingertips
Things that you do, and you know Im crazy bout you
Kisses of fire, burning, burning
Im at the point of no returning
Kisses of fire, sweet devotions
Caught in a land-slide of emotions
Ive had my share of love affairs but they were nothing compared to this
Oh, Im riding higher than the sky and there is fire in every kiss
Kisses of fire
Kisses of fire
When you sleep by my side I feel safe and I know I belong
Still its making me scared that my love is so strong
Losing you is a nightmare fate and to me its new
Never before did you see me begging for more
Kisses of fire, burning, burning
Im at the point of no returning
Kisses of fire, sweet devotions
Caught in a land-slide of emotions
Ive had my share of love affairs but they were nothing compared to this
Oh, Im riding higher than the sky and there is fire in every kiss
Kisses of fire
Kisses of fire
Kisses of fire, burning, burning
Im at the point of no returning
Kisses of fire, sweet devotions
Caught in a land-slide of emotions
Kisses of fire, burning, burning
(Im at the point of no returning)
Kisses of fire, sweet devotions
Im riding higher than the sky and there is fire in every kiss
(caught in a land-slide of emotions)
Kisses of fire, burning, burning
Im at the point of no returning
Kisses of fire, sweet devotions
Caught in a land-slide of emotions
song performed by ABBA
Added by Lucian Velea
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Flowers Are The Clocks Of The Light
Flowers are the clocks of the light.
Spring grey. Clouds. Half smoke, half crocus.
The rivulets are carrying last November's leaves away
like long lines of ants bearing the gnostic gospels
of the snow thawing into a spiritual life of water
back to the shrine of their colony
to be chewed over by the divines
masticating the mystery into something
like an edible orthodoxy of mystic impiety.
My heart is a bruised apple with purple blood today.
Neither passionate, nor aloof, clinging
nor unwilling to let go if that's what I must do.
One foot on shore. One in a lifeboat.
O what funny bridges we make as if
we were trying to balance the axis
of heaven and earth upon our nose
like the calves of giraffes learning to walk on stilts.
But there you go. What are you going to do?
That's the way it seems.
You've got to look up and stick your neck out
if you want to graze on the stars.
Same way with dreams. You've got to
risk waking up if you don't want to lose them.
I've wandered off from the carnage
of my doomed holy war of one with my heart
into a peaceful valley where I can sit
on a glacial skull of prophetic rock
and sheathe my sword in the wound I drew it from
like fire from the ore of a crippled dragon
that walked with a limp out of the war
weary of winning these honourable surrenders
like Jacob wrestling with the angel in the way.
Soft here. Easy on the eyes. A gentle touch.
The air on the verge of tears and the trees
about to see who's a skeleton and who's a survivor.
Who made it through the winter, and who
dreamed they died in their sleep and did,
and who, the ghost amputee of the limbs they lost.
I have a mindful heart and a warrior's compassion
for lost lovers, friends, suicides, martyrs, heretics,
neglected gods, defrocked saints, those
who fell half crazy on the broken panes
of their own clarity, committing hara kiri
on the splintered plinths of their own love-crossed stars.
One-eyed artists riding a pair of red bicycle glasses
in a high-wire act without safety nets
like a dropp of dew on a spider's thread
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Tale Of True Love
Not in the mist of legendary ages,
Which in sad moments men call long ago,
And people with bards, heroes, saints, and sages,
And virtues vanished, since we do not know,
But here to-day wherein we all grow old,
But only we, this Tale of True Love will be told.
For Earth to tender wisdom grows not older,
But to young hearts remains for ever young,
Spring no less winsome, Winter winds no colder,
Than when tales first were told, songs first were sung.
And all things always still remain the same,
That touch the human heart, and feed Love's vestal flame.
And, if you have ears to hear and eyes for seeing,
Maidens there be, as were there in your youth,
That round you breathe, and move, and have their being,
Fair as Greek Helen, pure as Hebrew Ruth;
With Heaven-appointed poets, quick to sing
Of blameless warrior brave, and wisdom-counselled king.
And, tho' in this our day, youth, love, and beauty,
Are far too often glorified as slave
Of every sense except the sense of Duty,
In fables that dishonour and deprave,
The old-world Creeds still linger, taught us by
The pious lips that mute now in the churchyard lie.
And this true simple tale in verse as simple
Will from its prelude to its close be told,
As free from artifice as is the dimple
In childhood's cheek, whereby is age consoled.
And haply it may soothe some sufferer's lot,
When noisier notes are husht, and newer ones forgot.
And think not, of your graciousness, I pray you,
Who tells the tale is one of those who deem
That love will beckon only to betray you,
Life an illusion, happiness a dream;
Only that noble grief is happier far
Than transitory lusts and feverish raptures are.
It was the season when aggressive Winter,
That had so long invested the sealed world,
With frosts that starve and hurricanes that splinter,
And rain, hail, blizzard, mercilessly hurled,
Made one forlorn last effort to assail
Ere Spring's relieving spears came riding on the gale.
For Amazonian March with breast uncovered
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Austin
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The Borough. Letter III: The Vicar--The Curate
THE VICAR.
WHERE ends our chancel in a vaulted space,
Sleep the departed Vicars of the place;
Of most, all mention, memory, thought are past -
But take a slight memorial of the last.
To what famed college we our Yicar owe,
To what fair county, let historians show:
Few now remember when the mild young man,
Ruddy and fair, his Sunday-task began;
Few live to speak of that soft soothing look
He cast around, as he prepared his book;
It was a kind of supplicating smile,
But nothing hopeless of applause the while;
And when he finished, his corrected pride
Felt the desert, and yet the praise denied.
Thus he his race began, and to the end
His constant care was, no man to offend;
No haughty virtues stirr'd his peaceful mind;
Nor urged the Priest to leave the Flock behind;
He was his Master's Soldier, but not one
To lead an army of his Martyrs on:
Fear was his ruling passion; yet was Love,
Of timid kind, once known his heart to move;
It led his patient spirit where it paid
Its languid offerings to a listening Maid:
She, with her widow'd Mother, heard him speak,
And sought awhile to find what he would seek:
Smiling he came, he smiled when he withdrew,
And paid the same attention to the two;
Meeting and parting without joy or pain,
He seem'd to come that he might go again.
The wondering girl, no prude, but something nice,
At length was chill'd by his unmelting ice;
She found her tortoise held such sluggish pace,
That she must turn and meet him in the chase:
This not approving, she withdrew, till one
Came who appear'd with livelier hope to run;
Who sought a readier way the heart to move,
Than by faint dalliance of unfixing love.
Accuse me not that I approving paint
Impatient Hope or Love without restraint;
Or think the Passions, a tumultuous throng,
Strong as they are, ungovernably strong:
But is the laurel to the soldier due,
Who, cautious, comes not into danger's view?
What worth has Virtue by Desire untried,
When Nature's self enlists on Duty's side?
The married dame in vain assail'd the truth
And guarded bosom of the Hebrew youth;
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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Do Your Duty
Wesley sox wilson
If I call three times a day
Come and drive my blues away
When you come, be ready to play
Do your duty
If you want to have some love
Give your baby your last buck
Dont come quackin like a duck
Do your duty
I heard you say you didnt love me
Numb as mrs. brown
I dont believe a word they say
Shes the lyinest woman in town
When I need attention at home
Ill call you on the phone
Come yourself, dont send your friend jones
Do your duty
If my radiator get too hot
Cool it off in lots of spots
Give me all the service youve got
Do your duty
If you dont know what its all about
Dont sit around my house and pout
If you do youll catch your mama tippin now
Do your duty
If you make your own bed hard
Thats the way o life
Im tired of sleepin by myself
But you too dumb to realize
Im not tryin to make you feel blue
Im not satisfied with the way you do
Ive got to help you find somebody too
Do your duty
song performed by Billie Holiday
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Pure Norwegian Flag
I
Tri-colored flag, and pure,
Thou art our hard-fought cause secure;
Thor's hammer-mark of might
Thou bearest blue in Christian white,
And all our hearts' red blood
To thee streams its full flood.
Thou liftest us high when life's sternest,
Exultant, thou oceanward turnest;
Thy colors of freedom are earnest
That spirit and body shall never know dearth.-
Fare forth o'er the earth!
II
'The pure flag is but pure folly,'
You 'wise' men maintain for true.
But the flag is the truth poetic,
The folly is found in you.
In poetry upward soaring,
The nation's immortal soul
With hands invisible carries
The flag toward the future goal.
That soul's every toil and trial,
That soul's every triumph sublime,
Are sounding in songs immortal,-
To their music the flag beats time.
We bear it along surrounded
By mem'ry's melodious choir,
By mild and whispering voices,
By will and stormy desire.
It gives not to others guidance,
Can not a Swedish word say;
It never can flaunt allurement:-
Clear the foreign colors away!
III
The sins and deceits of our nation
Possess in the flag no right;
The flag is the high ideal
In honor's immortal light.
The best of our past achievements,
The best of our present prayers,
It takes in its folds from the fathers
And bears to the sons and heirs;
Bears it all pure and artless,
By tokens that tempt us unmarred,
Is for our will's young manhood
Leader as well as guard.
[...] Read more
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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OUR Duty...
It is my duty to stand up for my country and belief
It is my duty to end my brothers’ and sisters’ grief
It is my duty to fight for my country and to spread goodness and trust
It is my duty to proclaim peace and harmony as a must
If everyone could just shake hands
Where difference no longer stands
If everyone could just walk together
Then the peace and harmony that I’m calling for shall last forever
If we could just unite and abolish all the wars
Then we shall unlock all of the friendship doors
If we could put an end to all the pain from people no matter what color or faith they are
Then the road to heaven and eternal happiness shall not be far
It is OUR duty to stand up for OUR country and belief
It is OUR duty to end OUR brothers’ and sisters’ grief
poem by Marria Attar
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Palamon And Arcite; Or, The Knight's Tale. From Chaucer. In Three Books. Book III.
The day approached when Fortune should decide
The important enterprise, and give the bride;
For now the rivals round the world had sought,
And each his number, well appointed, brought.
The nations far and near contend in choice,
And send the flower of war by public voice;
That after or before were never known
Such chiefs, as each an army seemed alone:
Beside the champions, all of high degree,
Who knighthood loved, and deeds of chivalry,
Thronged to the lists, and envied to behold
The names of others, not their own, enrolled.
Nor seems it strange; for every noble knight
Who loves the fair, and is endued with might,
In such a quarrel would be proud to fight.
There breathes not scarce a man on British ground
(An isle for love and arms of old renowned)
But would have sold his life to purchase fame,
To Palamon or Arcite sent his name;
And had the land selected of the best,
Half had come hence, and let the world provide the rest.
A hundred knights with Palamon there came,
Approved in fight, and men of mighty name;
Their arms were several, as their nations were,
But furnished all alike with sword and spear.
Some wore coat armour, imitating scale,
And next their skins were stubborn shirts of mail;
Some wore a breastplate and a light juppon,
Their horses clothed with rich caparison;
Some for defence would leathern bucklers use
Of folded hides, and others shields of Pruce.
One hung a pole-axe at his saddle-bow,
And one a heavy mace to stun the foe;
One for his legs and knees provided well,
With jambeux armed, and double plates of steel;
This on his helmet wore a lady's glove,
And that a sleeve embroidered by his love.
With Palamon above the rest in place,
Lycurgus came, the surly king of Thrace;
Black was his beard, and manly was his face
The balls of his broad eyes rolled in his head,
And glared betwixt a yellow and a red;
He looked a lion with a gloomy stare,
And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair;
Big-boned and large of limbs, with sinews strong,
Broad-shouldered, and his arms were round and long.
Four milk-white bulls (the Thracian use of old)
Were yoked to draw his car of burnished gold.
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
Added by Poetry Lover
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Dr Livingstone
Steam ship, sail down the river
Fight the mosquitoes that fly in a swarm
White smoke covers the jungle
See Dr. Livingston land with a thunk
Down where the sad willows gather
Young women weep for their dying babies
I am a white man in Africa
If I were to stay here
There'd be no one to save me
I hear the drums
I know it's urgent
I hear survival in his hands
Switch to record
I get the picture
But I will never understand
Mad world, invisible army
Blow up the bridges and come like a storm
Young girl, eyes full of promise
Carry the baby and keeping it warm
Down where the sad willows gather
Young men go down on their knees
I am a white man in Africa
With more than just my god to appease
I hear the drums
I know it's urgent
I hear survival in his hands
Switch to record
I get the picture
But I will never understand
How there is love in his face
'Midst of all this waste
In the Mozambique sun
Under the gun
I hear the drums
I hear survival in his hands
I hear the drums
There is a curse upon this land
I hear the drums
I know it's urgent
I hear survival in his hands
Hit record
Get the picture
I will never understand
Carry the sound and the fury
Left all alone in a war zone
Carry the sound and the fury
Hours later
Thoughts of my bed
Leave me tired and ready for sleep
So tell me about all the places you go
[...] Read more
song performed by Crowded House
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mr. U.F.O. Man
Dear God it's me transmittin' from
This tiny place I live in Harlem
Oh heaven we have a problem
Cuz we lost all correspondence
And there's no more prophets
They've all been replaced with politics
And they have your people hostage
That's why I'm sending you this postage
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
Hey now
You're my father
And I don't know what's out there
So many of us are scared
Hey now
We got people shooting people
We live in warface
I'm not talking nuclear
I ain't got there yet
Why we got intelligent mouths
on Larry King with religious doubts
While the rabbi and minister fuss
Shit, another one bites the dust
So the yellow red black and white
Send missiles in the dark of night
Probably wanna stop but don't know how
That's why Lord, we really need you now
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
People around if you feel our vibe ride
Come on aboard there's enough room inside
We're flying high where heaven hides
Hope I see you on the other side
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
Why we got intelligent mouths (intelligent mouths)
on Larry King with religious doubts
While the rabbi and minister fuss (while they got fuss)
Shit, another one bites the dust (another one bites the dust)
So the yellow red black and white
Send missiles in the dark of night
[...] Read more
song performed by Kelis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mr U.F.O. Man (feat. John Ostby)
(feat. John Ostby)
Dear God it's me transmittin' from
This tiny place I live in Harlem
Oh heaven we have a problem
Cuz we lost all correspondence
And there's no more prophets
They've all been replaced with politics
And they have your people hostage
That's why I'm sending you this postage
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
Hey now
You're my father
And I don't know what's out there
So many of us are scared
Hey now
We got people shooting people
We live in warface
I'm not talking nuclear
I ain't got there yet
Why we got intelligent mouths
on Larry King with religious doubts
While the rabbi and minister fuss
Shit, another one bites the dust
So the yellow red black and white
Send missiles in the dark of night
Probably wanna stop but don't know how
That's why Lord, we really need you now
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
People around if you feel our vibe ride
Come on aboard there's enough room inside
We're flying high where heaven hides
Hope I see you on the other side
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
Why we got intelligent mouths (intelligent mouths)
on Larry King with religious doubts
While the rabbi and minister fuss (while they go
song performed by Kelis
Added by Lucian Velea
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